Breathe
by amor-remanet
Summary: The night of Sirius’ death leaves Remus feeling depressed and empty after dealing with Fudge and consoling Harry and Tonks, Dumbledore finally makes time for the deceased’s lover. SLASH, RLSB.


**Disclaimer: **If they were mine, Remus never would have had to deal with this. I'll put them back when I'm done, though.

For as long as he could remember, Remus Lupin had been terribly afraid of scissors. During his youth, his father would often jest that he needed to sedate his young son before anything could be done to cut his hair. This remained true from his Hogwarts day – when, in their third year, James and Sirius had tried to hold him down and cut off just a little bit of it "because it looked like a girl's" – to the present day, when it was streaked liberally with grays and had to be tied back to be kept out of the way while he worked. Tonight, though, it had fallen out of its tie and hung limply, reaching well past his shoulders.

His limbs were similarly limp. It had been a damn long night, and now he had to lean on the windowsill in Dumbledore's office, staring out at the Hogwarts campus as the weak moonlight shifted away and night began relinquishing itself to the barest hints of day. He sighed into the night, hoping that maybe, wherever he had fallen, Sirius could hear him.

Sirius…there was nothing that could be done, yes, but something inside Remus still yearned for the sweet taste of _something_. Vindication, knowledge of what happened or where Sirius had gone to, vengeance against Bellatrix Lestrange for killing her cousin, his lover – any of those would have sufficed. But, it wasn't his place to express these desires. There were other things and other people to attend to that took precedence over his well-being. Naturally, Harry had been shaken by the sudden loss of his godfather, enough to collapse, yell at Dumbledore, and insist that Sirius wasn't dead; it was made worse by how little family he had known in his short life. Tonks had been similarly upset, since Sirius had been her only tolerable family outside of her parents. Cornelius Fudge had been flustered beyond belief; his debate with Dumbledore about the appropriate course of action could be heard down the hallways.

And now, Dumbledore had called Remus to his office. It was both obvious and obscure as to why he had done so. On the one hand, Remus had been Sirius' lover since they were in school, only taking a forced sabbatical from each other when Sirius was in Azkaban. On the other hand, the werewolf was well-known for his ability to stoically cope with powerful emotions and the most terrible of situations.

He'd been instructed to wait in the office. Dumbledore had to escort Fudge out and check in with Dolores Umbridge to make sure that she continued to be in no immediate danger, and then he would return to his office to attend to Remus. Although little time had passed, it felt like an eternity, making the office a universe whole in its own – just like when Sirius had fallen through the veil. Fawkes the phoenix sat on his perch; he hadn't been able to sleep tonight either, but, unlike all the humans around him, he didn't seem any worse for it. With a quavering voice, he let out a low note. Hypothetically, this should have aided Remus' state of mind, but, for once, he found himself inconsolable. Not even the best Honeyduke's chocolate could have helped him here.

He cast Fawkes a downtrodden sideways glance.

"Thank you for trying, though," he sighed forlornly. "I appreciate it."

"I believe Fawkes is used to this trick working," came Dumbledore's voice. "After all, this has always proved effective on Harry."

Remus whipped around quickly; Dumbledore was standing in the doorway, yawning slightly and looking incredibly tired. Still, he offered Remus a faint smile and walked over to the window to join him. With a sigh, he leaned on the window; Remus moved to prop himself up against the nearest bookshelf. Absentmindedly, he twirled part of his hair around one of his bony fingers. Even being fed by Molly Weasley on a semi-regular basis hadn't changed how thin he was, and Sirius would still be a gaunt corpse if they ever found a body. In the maelstrom of emotions he found himself in, Remus had no sense of mind to keep himself from chewing on his hair. Finally, Dumbledore spoke.

"I apologize, Remus," he sighed, "that it has taken me this long to get to you."

"There's no need, Albus," Remus replied weakly. "Other people take precedence over me, it's completely understandable."

"However much I wish to deny it, there is truth in that statement. The Minister, after all, is someone who must be dealt with, and Harry…I worry about him."

"I have since we took him from his aunt and uncle's last summer. Would it be out of line to say that he has struck me as unstable of late?"

"Not at all. Minerva, Severus, and Molly have all suggested it before you."

"Good to know I have some support. Sirius-" Remus flinched at his mentioning of his lover. "He…he used to excuse it as mere pangs of adolescence."

"And that," Dumbledore said clearly as he stood up, "is exactly why we are here at this late hour, when we should both be sleeping."

"I don't know that I'll be able to do that for awhile."

Dumbledore sighed again – in times like these, there seemed to be nothing else to do – and placed a fatherly hand on Remus' bony shoulder. He attempted to make eye contact, but Remus only looked away, closing his eyes to maintain some illusion of calmness, of an ability to cope. It was of no use, though; everyone knew how skilled of a Legilimens Dumbledore was, but he didn't even need to be here. Remus had reached his point where sleeplessness and sorrow were too much to handle. Breathing shakily, he returned his eyes to Dumbledore.

"Why couldn't it have been me she killed?" he whispered. "Those twelve years he was in Azkaban…I _had_ those. I got to live then. He had to spend them in unspeakable pain, and, through all of it, I thought he deserved it. He was my _lover_ – I loved him more than my own parents – and…I still couldn't trust him, even when he took me as I am. He…he deserved so much better than me, Albus."

"Remus," Dumbledore said with a warm strength that rivaled his phoenix's song. "There is no doubt in my mind, nor in anyone else's, that Sirius loved you."

"But why me? I'm so…_flawed_."

"As are we all – it is one of the unfortunate side effects of being human."

"He could have had better."

"How do you reach this conclusion?"

"For one thing, he could have had someone who wasn't a werewolf. He could have had someone smarter, warmer, more trusting, better-looking, better in bed-"

"And still he chose _you_ over anyone else."

Dumbledore sighed as Remus' chest rose and fell sharply; without a word or even a noise, he removed his hand from Remus' shoulder and slowly lowered himself into his chair.

"I am an old man, Remus," he said softly. "I have seen the worst kinds of pain imaginable, many of them inflicted on other people by a former student of mine, someone I trusted, even in spite of what he has become. People around me seem to have a tendency towards dying in horrendous pain, Nicholas Flamel being one of the few exceptions. I have seen people torn from their loved ones, and couples go to death and worse together. I have seen love so powerful that Lord Voldemort could not bear to touch its remnants. Yet, all of this pales to what I saw between you and Sirius."

"That's not true," Remus hissed, defiantly morose. "I doubted him. I didn't see, I…I was so bloody ignorant, even though I should've known."

"Ignorance is not a sin, although it certainly leads to them sometimes-"

"But I betrayed him…I betrayed him just as much as Peter betrayed Lily and James. He trusted me, and I couldn't see that he was innocent."

"You don't want to forgive yourself for this, do you? Sirius did."

"Of course he did. I'll never understand why he loved me as much as he did. I'm not ungrateful – far from it; he always took me for me, even when no one else would. But I don't understand."

"Love, I believe, may be impossible to understand. Our Muggle counterparts are quick to blame or credit destiny and science for it, while we have our own myths and legends. We can also synthesize it with clever tricks – charms and potions, farcical imitations of the real thing. We are able to see how it manifests itself as protection after sacrifice. And yet, our actual understanding is so limited. Regardless of this, the truth remains: something in you drew Sirius to you, and something in him drew you to him."

"And you are perfectly reasonable, as always."

"I'm afraid I must continue to be. The reason you are alive now is because there would be no purpose in your death."

"There was a purpose in Sirius'?" Remus interjected sharply, wrapping his shabbily-clad arms around himself to control his shivering.

"I didn't say that, Remus. I merely said that you can be useful without him being here; you needn't only hold down our forces at Grimmauld Place. Despite Kreacher's refusal to listen to them, Molly, Arthur, and Nymphadora are quite capable of handling that in shifts, after we can secure that it is still ours, of course."

"Then what else am I good for? I can't have a _job_, and people are loath to welcome a werewolf into their lives at all, let alone integrate us into society."

"Cornelius, I expect, will only be enjoying his post for a short time," Dumbledore explained calmly. "Even if he remains in power, I find it unlikely that the Ministry will keep its current attitude towards Harry and myself. If they wish to make amends with the wizarding community for being so dreadfully wrong, they will undoubtedly seek our friendship once more."

"Where do I come into this?" Remus whispered incredulously.

"I have two jobs in mind that would be perfectly suited to you. The first is the one that, I must admit, I'd rather you would take: come back and teach here-"

"But I'm not allowed to have a paying job! I don't know _what's_ going to happen now that I can't live at Headquarters…I'll have to try and hold down Muggle jobs, and pay rent on a Muggle flat, and-"

"Let us focus on the present, Remus. If my suspicions are correct, then the Ministry would make an exception for this, or lift the ban all together. They should, logically, be more inclined to listen to me now that I have been proved right in their own building. Naturally, I will vouch for your capabilities, and Harry-"

"Don't drag Harry into this as well. If I'm taking this hard, he'll undoubtedly be worse. Give him a summer off from being the hero, Albus; it's the least he deserves."

"I can try to leave him out of this. Sadly, the _Prophet_ will be jumping on this as soon as possible and his public image will be similarly skewed, albeit in a more favorable way. Would you like to hear my second idea?"

"Yes."

"Be our liaison to the werewolves. They feel ostracized – understandably – and Fenrir Greyback will undoubtedly make the situation worse for our cause. An insertion of reason into their midst – even if you are but one man – would do a world of good for everyone."

"They wouldn't listen to me. I might be one of Greyback's creations, but I've been 'civilized.' I'm not one of them."

"It is still worth trying, even though I, and most likely the students as well, would rather you came back to teach. I leave the decision up to you."

Remus paused and looked away again. This entire conversation was making him feel more adolescent by the minute, a fact which his utterly irrational and completely merited response to Sirius' passing only exacerbated. As usual, Dumbledore was completely right. Life would go on as it always had without Sirius. After all, Remus had lived without him when he was in Azkaban. Of course, no one had escaped before him – untrue, apparently, courtesy of the Polyjuice Potion and Bartemius Crouch loving his wife too much – but there was still the chance that maybe Remus had been wrong and they'd see each other again. It had been so unlikely, but that was what had perspired. Sirius had been returned to him, changed significantly but still _his_, only to be ripped away again with no rhyme or reason to it at all.

But life had to go on. The world would not stop just for Remus, nor would it let him off to recuperate properly. Come what may, life had to proceed on its course, wherever that would lead. And he had to move with it, doing what was most beneficial for the Order in the war against Voldemort. Teaching was certainly an appealing prospect – leaving had been one of the hardest things he'd ever had to do – but, all the same: the job was cursed, this time he could wind up dead. That would bring him back to Sirius, he guessed, but…if Dumbledore said he had a purpose in being alive, then it was probably true. Had anyone else said it, he probably wouldn't have believed them.

But then there was which option to pick. He could teach again – he would have been lying if he said that he didn't want to – but there were too many memories coming to mind now, with Sirius' death. Sweet remembrances of their first kiss under mistletoe that Sirius had pulled out of his pocket because if Remus was going to insist on torturing himself over lust, then he would just have to fulfill the werewolf's desires. Images of playing innocent pranks on the unsuspecting with James and Peter, the memory of how practical jokes had turned into outright torture of Severus Snape, the remnants of bitter betrayal left by Sirius' grand scheme to put Snape in the way of a werewolf – he let out a quavering sigh just at the thought of these recollections. Lowering his head, he tried to choke back inevitable tears. As they left his eyes in single-file lines, he made his decision.

Werewolves were dangerous – being one, he knew first hand the damage they could do; the only evidence he needed shone in faint scars against his face and all over his body, and he still had more. Werewolves were especially hazardous for him, since he had turned to civilization instead. But anything was better than coming back to Hogwarts.

"The werewolves," Remus sighed finally. "I'll go to them."

"Are you sure?" came Dumbledore's shaky reply.

"Yes, very."

"Well, I would rather you came back – and I know that, at the very least, Harry, Hermione, and the remaining two Weasleys would enjoy that as well – but the decision was yours to make, and I respect this."

"I'd be lying if I said I didn't want to come back, Albus, but…I can't. Not now, at any rate – there are too many memories here, I – I couldn't teach effectively. It would just be cheating the students of their education."

"I understand, Remus. I will just say that, while your reasons make sense, this seems like a very self-destructive decision."

"Maybe it is; it's hard for me to tell right now. But I know I could be useful."

"Indeed you could."

"I have to move on, don't I? It's better for the Order, it's better for the cause…it's better for everyone, really."

"But is it better for you, or are you going to repress this as well?"

"Maybe I am," Remus sighed. "But there will be time for that when the war is over. Now…I need to think about how busy my summer will be."

Remus tried to move away from the bookshelf, but found himself leaning on the window ledge again, staring wistfully out at the feeble rays of sunlight as they spread their arms across the night sky. Here it was, just another sunrise, just like all the ones that had come before it and would come afterwards. With it, though, came realization. He would never watch another sunrise with Sirius after the full moon. He would never again have someone to make excuses for him when he couldn't make it to something important because the pre-effects of the full moon began early. He didn't have his better half to turn to when things got weird, as they most certainly would now that Voldemort had outed his return to existence. When Sirius had been in Azkaban, Remus had been able to cope; as long as he maintained the lie that Sirius was the spy and deserved everything he was handed…with that in mind, he could go on living.

This was completely different. All the different scenarios wherein Sirius could come back this time were too far-fetched, even for someone stretching to believe anything. In perfect silence, he choked back a cry of anguish, but let tears slip instead.

"Remus?" Dumbledore ventured in his same strong voice. "Are you alright?"

"No, Albus," Remus sighed, his arms shaking to support him. "I'm really not. But I can be eventually."

"All things must pass, Remus. Just as the caterpillar's we don't turn into potion ingredients eventually become butterflies, people must grow and change. Like the flowers born in soil enriched by an animal's death, we must take our losses and grow from the knowledge they give us. Breathing is unspeakably similar to the way life goes on, if one thinks about it properly – in and out, living and not, on and on, forever. Some of us just leave the cycle before others. It is simply a matter cleaning up the mess we leave and learning how to avoid making it in the future, which, in some cases – like this one – is inherently complicated.

"Just remember, Remus, whichever path life leads you down, no matter what besets you, you will always be welcome here. And, should you ever decide to teach again, the position and students await your return."

Remus couldn't help but give a weak smile. This was Dumbledore's gift, wasn't it: the ability to spread love and unity where Lord Voldemort brought enmity and discord? Yes, it had to be. The two powers contrasted each other in a beautiful discord. Both of their users showed mastery, for better or for worse, of their gift, and, whether it was Dumbledore's doing or not, feeling something other than a void where his heart used to be gave Remus a sliver of hope to cling onto.


End file.
